Supra Natural
by ellenshipley
Summary: An encounter of wills and worlds. How can Bones trust what she cannot see? This takes place early in both shows. I don't own the characters; I am just borrowing them.


Temperance Brennan, forensic anthropologist, blew into Special Agent Seeley Booth's office in what passed for high dudgeon in her ordered world. On loan to the FBI from the Jeffersonian, where she worked comfortably surrounded by her beloved bones, she found this particular interruption to her routine irksome. It was just the latest in a string of incidents plaguing her day, starting when the clasp on her favorite necklace broke and peppered the lab with little brass beads. Most of which currently clacked softly in her pocket.

"I don't understand this," she began without preamble, tossing a letter in Booth's direction. Crumpled from her grasp, it fluttered fitfully to the desk.

"Why are we meeting with _a medium_?" She tucked a wisp of her brown hair back into her ponytail in irritation. Talk about a bad hair day.

"Morning, Bones," Booth countered, used to his partner's crisp ways. "Nice to see you too." He didn't rise from his desk or to the bait, indicating she take a chair with an airy hand. She remained stubbornly standing.

Booth smoothed the tattle-tale letter that someone had seen fit to copy Bones against his strong suggestion. "Because my buddy in the Phoenix police department is bringing her here as an expert witness."

"Ah." Bones brightened. "Now I understand. You want me to debunk a charlatan." Order was restored to her world.

"No," Booth corrected carefully. "Lee vouches for her, and he's a straight shooter. She may have info linking our Jane Doe to a string of murders. We may have a serial killer on our hands." The prospect seemed to please him.

"Relax, Bones. Take a seat. They'll be here any minute."

"If that is the case I have a lot of work to do in the lab," she said wearily, pivoting, only to come face to face with Booth's visitor. The man filled the doorway, blocking her exit.

Booth came around the desk to run interference. "Long time, Lee." They shook hands. "Bones, this is Lee Scanlon—"

"I'm sorry. I don't have time for a séance," Bones said in her usual, unconsciously brusque manner. She made to squeeze past the man, only to run into a new obstruction.

A wisp of a woman, forty-something, smiled uncertainly at her. "Hello, I'm Allison DuBois," she said, offering her hand. "I work for the Phoenix District Attorney's office." Bones took it automatically. Ritual was important in her world.

"Dr. Brennan," Bones offered perforce, begrudging the monumental waste of time. "I'm sorry. I can't help you." The woman struck her as unremarkable, more a housewife than a medium.

The two women sized each other up. One willowy and dark, the other mousy and fair. They made an unlikely pair of crime fighters.

Allison cocked her head, chasing a stray vision as she released the doctor's hand. "I know," she said, "But I can help you." Her smile grew more confident as she got an impression of the no-nonsense scientist. The woman valued facts, so she gave her one.

"I'm sorry you broke your necklace this morning. In your lab. It made a terrible clatter on the metal table. I believe you'll find your missing beads have rolled behind an old metal cabinet."

Bones' hand flew of its own accord to her bare throat, and then to her pocket. "How—?" She frowned. "Who told you?"

"No one," Allison said sweetly.

Booth looked confused. "Beads?"

Scanlon laughed. "She does that," he said. "You get used to it."

Bones shook her head, reordering her world. "I don't have time for parlor tricks. I have a dead body to identify, so if you will excuse me." She made one more attempt to flee the office.

The doctor was a skeptic. Allison had met the type many times. She only believed what she could touch or see or reason her way through. But in Allison's experience, there was so much more. So many lost or confused souls clamoring for her aid. She had learned to make time for them.

Allison gave the good doctor her best PTA mom smile. "I can help you there too," she said. "The young woman's name is Jennifer Tompkins and she's a runaway."

"You can't know that." Bones turned to Booth. "She can't know that. We haven't identified the remains yet."

As if on cue, Dr. Brennan's phone rang and she pulled it out of her other pocket. "Brennan," she said, listened a moment and thanked the caller. She returned the phone absently to her pocket.

"What is it Bones?" her partner asked. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Allison and Lee exchanged a look.

"That was Zack," Bones told him. "They've identified the body. A runaway from Phoenix named Jennifer Tompkins." She rounded on Allison.

"How did you know that? No one did until a few minutes ago."

Allison took a deep breath. This part was always difficult to explain. _I see things in my dreams? The dead talk to me on a regular basis?_ Where to start.

Lee caught Booth's eye and cocked his head toward the door. "It was a long flight. Maybe we can all go somewhere for coffee? This may take a while."

Booth took his meaning. Move to neutral ground. "I could stand a cup. C'mon, Bones." And he ushered them out of his office.

"I don't believe in ghosts," Bones said to no one in particular as they walked to the elevator. Her brow furrowed as she fingered the little brass beads in her pocket.

Allison got a fleeting glimpse of dozens of troubled souls given peace by this brusque, no-nonsense woman. She patted Brennan's arm kindly. "That's all right, they believe in you."


End file.
